Unforseen Daddy: A bad boy second chance romance Read online

  He is breaking me down.

  Even in this pleasure-induced haze, I see how deliberate his actions are. He is not going to leave me with anything, stripping me of my pride, my arrogance, everything.

  And I still feel safe.

  Because I know he will return it to me later.

  So, I beg him for his cock, and I feel him chuckle, delighted.

  I am so wet that he slides into me easily. My head snaps up and my spine curves at the jolt of hot pleasure.

  “That’s it,” Zayn murmurs, his voice hoarse. “Take it, Eve. You want it, don’t you? Take it in even deeper.”

  And I do.

  “Oh, fuck,” I gasp, feeling his thickness rub me raw as he moves inside me, lighting all my nerve endings on fire. “Zayn!”

  He moves inside me, his hips pumping, his lips pressing kisses on the side of my face, shoulders, neck, my throat as I let out another helpless gasping noise.

  Suddenly, I am picked up and tossed onto the bed, face down, my lower body dangling from the edge. Zayn’s hand is on my nape he holding me down, his cock inside me, burning me as he fucks me wildly now, all restraint gone.

  “You’re so perfect, Eve. And you’re mine.” His words are a snarl as cock jackhammers me, reaching places so deep that my heart quivers. He leans over me till his front is pressed against my back, his cheek to my cheek.

  It is such an intimate position and my hands, now free of the shirt, scrabble at the bedsheet, needing purchase.

  “It’s never felt like this before, has it?” he asks, demanding an answer, his voice tight, strained. “Not with anyone, except me.”

  Of course not.

  Nobody else could work my body like this.

  I let out a sob as he draws out my pleasure like a taut string.

  However, he isn’t satisfied, and he repeats, his voice harsh, “No one except me. Say it.”

  There is such dark possessiveness in his voice and in my drunken haze, I adore it, I want it. I want him to possess me and own me and break me.

  I want all of him.

  “No one except you!”

  Satisfied with that, I feel his free hand move lower to find my clit and rub it vigorously. “You’re so soaking wet. You’re loving this aren’t you?”

  I mumble something unintelligent, nothing making sense except the way his body slaps against mine; his fat cock abuses my pussy, making me want to scream his name over and over again.

  “Good girl.”

  The same praise, this time spoken in such a worshipful tone, such wild awe and adoration in his voice, that it breaks me.

  I fly apart at the hinges, and moments later, I feel him shudder as he gives in to his release.

  Bodies heaving, trying to find our footing, I feel Zayn’s arms around me as he gathers me to him and climbing onto the bed, he pulls the covers over us as he presses light kisses on my face, my shoulders.

  The intensity dying down, now he just loves me, using his actions to tell me I am okay, and the soft kisses, the way he strokes me down from the high, the way he broke me and the way he is now putting me back together with such tender care, I bury my face in his chest and just slip into the deepest sleep I have had in a while, feeling safe and protected.

  13

  ZAYN

  I t is the sound of my cell phone that wakes me up, the scratchy noise that Agatha put there, and which, for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to remove.

  One minute I was deeply asleep, the next I am wide awake, an odd feeling of something missing.

  As I reach for the phone, I realize that Eve is no longer in my arms.

  A brief touch to where she laid and the cold bed sheets tell me she’s been gone for a while.

  Trying not to let that bother, I answer the phone.

  “Frank Mueller Donavon.”

  Agatha sounds weary and yet energized at the same time. It takes me a heartbeat to connect the dots and figure out what she is talking about.

  “Works for the Tattle Buzz, one of the actual authentic tabloid magazines.” I pulls myself into a sitting position and lean against the wooden bedframe, hearing her sneer.

  “Are you listening?”

  At the impatient question, I grunt. “I’m here.”

  “So, this little weasel is one of the best this tabloid has, usually brings genuine pictures. Even magazines sometimes run his stories. He’s the real deal. He’s up to his neck in trespassing lawsuits, libel lawsuits; you name it, he’s been to court for it.”

  “How did he know about Eve and Mila?” My eyes focus on the coffee table where my clothes lay folded.

  Eve.

  Agatha is still talking. “He doesn’t know who they are. But he’s been following you around because of the inauguration of your new club. And since you’ve been so suspiciously quiet in terms of your lifestyle, he was probably sniffing around for some dirt, and he must have seen you with your family.”

  Your family.

  The term is thrown out so casually and it reaches to every crevice of my soul, making me close my eyes.

  I open them again when Agatha hisses in dismay and anger. “Fuck. No, fuck. Fucking hell.”

  My tone is sharp. “What is it?”

  When Agatha curses again, I grit my teeth. “Agatha.”

  “You’re not going to like this,” fury coats her tone. “You’re going to hate this.”

  I am about to say something particularly nasty when she continues. “That bastard was at the crime scene yesterday. He got plenty of shots of Eve’s friend and you holding Eve. He’s even managed to get images of the hallway where the girl was dragged. This is bad, Zayn. Eve’s full name, the dance studio, he’s got everything, maybe except your actual association with Eve. He’s still calling her a money hungry whore.”

  Anger in her voice at the term.

  “She can’t see this, Zayn.”

  I recall the way Eve gave herself to me, offered me her trust.

  My eyes are grim. “Yes, she does. Better she hears it from me.”

  Agatha pauses for a few moments. “Give me an hour. I’ll be there.” Before I could tell her no, she says, shortly, “She’ll want to know her options, Zayn. This is what I do.”

  “All right.”

  All the warmth from last night is now curled up in a small ball inside my chest, surrounded by ice. After a few minutes, I get out of bed and throw on some clothes, a part of me dreading the upcoming confrontation.

  Eve is in the kitchen when I find her.

  Mila sits on one of the seats near the counter, her feet bare, her tiny legs kicking back and forth. She is eating a bowl of Froot Loops cereal, which I usually keep as a snack to crunch on when I am bored.

  Eve is wearing my shirt, freshly showered, and the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs permeates the air. Barefoot, she is talking to Mila and Mila is not paying attention, more concentrated on not spilling her breakfast on herself.

  I stand in the threshold of the kitchen, taking in the small, homey scene.

  This is what I want every day of his life.

  This feeling.

  Taking this memory, I close it into a box along with the other precious moments of my life that I treasure beyond anything, to be taken out and viewed, occasionally.

  Eve turns around and makes a small surprised sound at seeing me standing there.

  Her face turns red for a few moments as we soundlessly stare at each other.

  Then, she breaks the connection. “You want to have breakfast?”

  I slide inside. “Yes, please.”

  I want to touch her, but I refrain from doing so. I am just sitting next to Mila giving her a kiss on the forehead as she is offering me a bite of her soggy cereal.

  I make sure that she sees the regret on my face as I turn it down.

  “Thank you.” Eve’s voice is clear, normal.

  I look up to see her watching me from the stove. “What for?”

  She gives a wry smile. “You know. I’m not going to spell it out
for you.”

  The fragile woman is gone, replaced by this steely-eyed woman who is ready to take on the world again.

  As she puts a plate heaped with eggs, bacon, and stir-fried vegetables in front of me, I shake my head. “No. You don’t get to say thank you.”

  She blinks.

  “You gave me a gift, last night. You offered me your trust, and I took it.”

  Her eyes grow dark, an inscrutable look in them. Their gaze holds for a few moments, a clarity in it that wasn’t there before, a calm acceptance.

  Then Eve smiles, a small curving of her lips. “You’re right.”

  As she moves to the table, she says, “I called Dina. Lorraine’s in a coma, but they’ve moved her out of the ICU. They’ll bring her out of the coma in the afternoon. The police—”

  The look on my face makes her pause. “What?”

  I put down my fork, my heart feeling heavy. “There’s something you need to know.”

  She trusts me so I can’t lie.

  Eve stares at the articles, reading through them, one after the other, her gaze not flinching.

  Despite the churning fury in my gut, I couldn’t help the feeling of pride.

  My steely-eyed warrior is back.

  She picks up the photographs that Agatha printed out and brought along with her. The one she is holding is with her face buried in my chest, her back to the camera, while the cold look in my face was aimed directly at the lens.

  She looks at Agatha and then back at the numerous articles scattered across the coffee table.

  We are sitting in the living area, and Agatha occupies the armchair while Eve sits adjacent to her on the long couch, me sitting on the arm of the couch, my leg touching her thigh.

  “This is going to ruin me,” Eve says softly, as if digesting the news. “People won’t want to attend a dance school where they won’t be safe.”

  “It could also have the opposite effect,” Agatha interjects. “People are fascinated by these sort of things. You might end up getting more business.”

  Eve doesn’t look convinced.

  She picks up a discarded article, and a dry chuckle escapes her lips; this time she glances up at me. “Apparently, I’m your ‘whore.’ That’s new.”

  She doesn’t look insulted, managing to find some measure of humor in this whole thing.

  Then she tosses down the paper and rubs her hands over her face, sighing heavily. “Mila will have to change schools.”

  “What?”

  Agatha glances at me. “She’s right. Teachers, parents, they will recognize Eve. Reporters will track Mila down. For now, it’s best to withdraw her.”

  Eve doesn’t look very happy. “She was doing so well.”

  Agatha hesitates before reaching out to cover Eve’s hand with her own. “It’s just for now. This whole thing will die down. And I know plenty of excellent home tutors. Even for a brief period, they’ll make sure that Mila doesn’t lag behind.” She glances at me. “And the rest of us are here to distract her from this sudden change. You’ll get through this. We’ve got your back.”

  The solidarity that Agatha is offering makes Eve’s eyes soften and shimmer before she lowers her gaze, nodding mutely.

  Her voice is thick as she struggles to regain control of herself. “Thank you. I appreciate this.”

  Agatha gives me a long look before giving a soft smile that is so uncharacteristic of her. “You’re family now, kind of. We look after family.”

  “I would suggest relocating your home for a while. Maybe you could stay with friends?” Agatha gathers up the papers on the table.

  Eve rolls her shoulders. “I don’t have those sort of friends.”

  “Your parents?” Agatha is stuffing the papers in her briefcase, so she doesn’t see the spasm of pain cross Eve’s face, such terrible anguish that I nearly lose my breath.

  She clenches her fingers into the cushion beside her and says, her voice normal. “Yeah, uh. That’s not going to happen either.” She refuses to look at me. “I’ll be fine at home. We have a security system, and Ron will be back in a week. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “You could stay here,” I say, raising a brow. “This house is too big for just one person.”

  She gives me a half amused look, and I note the ease with which she forced back the grief, as if she is accustomed to doing so.

  That doesn’t sit well with me.

  “You should have thought about that before you got the house, sugar.”

  The nickname that sounds so natural with her Texan drawl hints at her stubborn nature.

  She isn’t going to let anyone uproot her from her home.

  However, I am just as stubborn.

  “I can stay with you, then.”

  Eve snorts. “And sleep where? We’ll be fine.”

  Agatha looks worried. “Eve, we don’t know who was in your building yesterday. We don’t know who the real target was. If it was you, then living alone at the moment could put both you and Mila in immeasurable danger. Please reconsider.”

  Eve stills.

  She clearly hasn’t considered that she might be putting Mila in danger.

  After a few seconds, she glances up at me. “You have a room for Mila here. Maybe she could sleep here till this whole thing is sorted out.”

  Now I scowl. “And what, you’ll stay in an empty apartment? For what? These are too many changes for Mila in too short of a time.”

  The struggle in Eve’s brown eyes is evident as she tries to come to terms with the fact that she is going to have to be dependent on someone else for a while. She doesn’t like it. She resents that two places of sanctuary are being taken from her.

  “What about when Ron comes back? I don’t want him living alone,” she says, finally. “If it’s not safe for me, it’s not safe for him.”

  “He can stay with Mark,” I say shortly, disliking her concern for the other man. Despite the fact that Ron is gay, it feels like he is my biggest competitor.

  Eve gives me a strange look but sighs. “Fine, then. For a few days. Just a few.”

  I have to work to keep the triumphant look off of my face.

  The look Eve shoots me tells me I am not doing a very good job of it.

  I take Eve and Mila with me to collect their things.

  As I park the car in the open parking lot, I note a car parked nearby. It’s exterior black and sleek, not unlike mine. It looks oddly familiar. Despite the neighborhood being a safe one, it is hard to imagine someone in this area owning such an expensive car.

  Distracted by Mila, who suddenly decides she wants to be carried, the thought of the car slips to the back of my mind.

  I follow Eve upstairs while Mila babbles in my ear. Half listening, I keep nodding in earnest, part of me excited about finally getting Eve inside my home for a temporary time period.

  I have one foot in the door.

  Wouldn’t be too hard to push it open all the way.

  When Eve stops abruptly at the top of the stairs, I frown.

  Why is she stopping?

  I am about to say something when she makes an odd sound, one I’d never heard from her before.

  The name she gasps out makes my blood chill.

  “Elijah.”

  I don’t hesitate, covering the remaining steps in a matter of a second and moving in front of Eve.

  “What are you doing here?” My words are a snarl.

  He may be my father. He may have saved my life. But the darkness that surrounds Elijah is not one I want tainting my small family.

  Looking impeccable as ever in a dark blue suit, Elijah’s calm gaze settles on me. “Hello, Zayn. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  The gleam in his eyes says otherwise.

  “Wait, you two know each other?” Eve asks, bewilderment in her tone.

  I shoot a look over my shoulder at her. “How do you know him?”

  She blinks. “He’s—He’s an old friend of sorts. And he’s the silent partner in the studio.”
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  She is leaving something out. I can read it in her eyes.

  I turn my attention back to my father, who looks amused by my behavior.

  “I’ve known Eve for five years, Zayn. I’m hardly going to harm her.”

  I feel the tension rolling off of Eve. “How do you two know each other?”

  I glare at Elijah, who is silently laughing at me. “He’s my father.”

  Eve falls silent, stunned. “I didn’t—Well, shit. Elijah, did you...?”

  “I knew about your relationship, yes,” the older man says smoothly, a smile playing on his lips.

  “And, about Mila?” Her words are careful, and I sense she is trying to step around an entirely different issue.

  My father’s eyes hardened, dangerous vibes rolling off of him whilst he maintains that pleasant expression. “I knew.”

  Eve takes a shuddering breath behind me, and I want to know what is going on. How does Elijah know Eve? How did they meet? What are they not telling me?

  “Let’s go inside. Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?”

  Eve brushes past me and sticks the key in the lock.

  Now that the tension seems to have abated, Mila stretches her arms towards my father, looking thrilled at seeing him.

  Eve is already inside, and I don’t want to hand my baby over to my father.

  It is bad enough that my hands are tainted.

  His are far worse.

  “Don’t be childish, Zayn. It doesn’t suit you,” Elijah chides me, leaning forward and taking Mila from me.

  “What the hell is going on?” I hiss at him. “What am I missing?”

  “I’ve been cleaning up your messes for a long time, Zayn,” my father tells me. “Even the ones you didn’t know about.”

  “I want answers.”

  I just left Mila in her room to pack what she wants to bring to my house.

  Not the smartest idea since my daughter wants to bring all her toys and then some.

  Elijah is in the kitchen, waiting on us as Eve went to pack her things. I trail after Eve, watching her throw some clothes into a bag.

  She pretends to contemplate between two shirts, but I know she is thinking of how to answer me while giving me as little information possible.